David’s mother Carol lay in bed alone, looking up at the ceiling. Motels were always so depressing, and she wished she’d stayed at the hospital.
David had been nice to try and let her get some sleep, but she couldn’t go to sleep. There was no way — not with her son in the hospital, alive so soon after he’d died.
Focused on the ceiling, Carol didn’t look out the window. Why would she?
The SWAT team watched the room. The motel’s phone line had been cut. If she got a call on her cell, they would come in.
They would do their best to make sure she didn’t find out that her son had escaped the hospital. But if she did find out, they’d make damn sure she didn’t call and tell her husband.
Carol didn’t know about any of that. She just lay in bed, eyes wide open, hoping her son was alright.